


The First Hour is Always The Worst

by apple_08



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, F/F, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-14
Updated: 2011-03-14
Packaged: 2017-10-23 20:50:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/254843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apple_08/pseuds/apple_08
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I wrote this a while ago but I feel like this particular fanfiction establishes my identity as a writer (at least in the fanfictional-sort-of-way) and also it sets up for the next few I hope to post, because they're all Brittana - Angst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First Hour is Always The Worst

**Author's Note:**

> **I knew I had to do a post-Sexy fanfiction I've just been trying to figure out exactly what I wanted to write. I know it's short, but please give it a chance. Sexy was an A M A Z I N G episode; Naya Rivera is a phenomenal actress and I'm glad to finally see all our Brittana hopes and dreams represented on the show. Brittana FTW 3**

Hour one…

The first hour is always the worst. The wound is still fresh. The cut is deep, and even rubbing ever so slightly against something else will irritate it. Nothing anybody can do or say will stop the pain when it is too new, and too great. Everything is poison. Booze tastes like blood. Leaving the bottle on the counter you finally succumb to the only known remedy. You cry…

 _Hour Two…_

The second hour is definitely the worst. The pain still hasn't gone away and the wound is too deep to scab. As it tries to sew itself back together every wretched sob rips it back apart. The memories like sharp blades slicing through the tender flesh over, and over, and _over,_ again.

 _Hour Three…_

If the first and second hours were bad, than the third is like hell. Before you can even contemplate numbness you have to experience a zenith of emotion and pain. You have to let it swallow you completely, beat and buffet you with all that it's got, before you can begin to relax…before you can remiss in the aftermath of the storm.

 _Hour Five…_

The fourth hour is a lost hour. Stuck in between everything and nothing. It's hard to remember when you were there or what you did, but you kind of wish you never left because it hurts so much more to be in the fifth hour, when you are aware of anything and everything and you wish you could go back to nothing. Nothing can't hurt you.

The fifth hour is a time for acceptance. You accept that there is an irreparable rift in your heart every hour, on the hour, it chokes out more blood and more heartache, trying to purge itself of all the pain. It begins to heal…

 _Hour Twenty-Four…_

A whole day has gone by because the healing process is long and even now it hasn't completely made it's course. But the numbness is settling in, and you're moving on autopilot, and every hour on the hour you're overcome with a new wave of sadness but you've learned how to deal because, after all, it's about time you were over it.

But there is something different about today. Gliding down the hallways you wonder what it is, and you can't figure it out until it hits you right in the face…literally.

Your head connects with Brittany's shoulder, and as you try to scramble away from her undeniable touch you feel it happening. You feel yourself unravelling. You feel the wound splitting with pain like no one has ever known before.

Hitting the mattress in your black hole of a room you revisit an old nightmare;

 _Hour one._


End file.
